


Community Outreach

by crushing83



Series: Community Outreach [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, First Meetings, Gen, Post-Season/Series 06, Post-Season/Series 14, argent and the winchesters team up, just having a little fun, may turn into a series, mentions of Charlie - Freeform, mentions of jack, no explaining how Michael went away, playing fast and loose with each show's canon, teaming up, vague retelling of their histories, vague sharing of their histories, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: The Winchesters and the Argents never hunted together, but that didn't stop Dean from trying to keep them in the loop when it looked like the end of the world was on deck. When Scott needs help protecting those who are being hunted by Monroe and her teams of thugs, he and Chris approach the brothers with a proposal.





	Community Outreach

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd watch TW (I just didn't think I could go back to high school, y'know?), but hellatus left me craving something fantasy-based, and I took the show out for a spin. And then devoured it faster than I probably should have. 
> 
> Since TW is still new to me, I don't have a complete handle on the voices yet. I don't even think I really have a grip on Dean's and Sam's voices yet. But, this idea wiggled its way into my brain and I couldn't shake it, so here I am posting this. 
> 
> I hope you like it! (And thanks in advance for reading!)

As a kid, Dean grew up heeding his father's words on a variety of subjects. But _do not partner with the Argents_ and _stay out of Beacon Hills_ were never priorities with the same weight that _look out for Sammy_ carried. They never crossed paths with the family of hunters before the demons and angels stole their focus; the world cracked more than a little under all the chaos and the rules of the past mattered less than they usually did. He never realised the two rules would become so intertwined when he stopped thinking about them; he never considered either rule to matter much, except in the way that it influenced where they went next. 

The first time Dean sent an alert to the one Argent he knew he could reach, it was to warn him and his family about the Leviathans. Dean didn't receive a reply until he returned from Purgatory---creeping him out because his cell phone hadn't survived the trip, but somehow, Chris Argent had found the number to his new phone---and the message made him laugh for the first time since the portal spit him out of the underworld. 

_Disgusting black ooze. Only saw two so far around BH. Can't wait until someone finds those two heady time capsules._

When the angels crashed down from Heaven, Dean didn't have to contact Argent again. 

_That wasn't a normal meteor shower. What do I need to know?_

Writing a novel-length response on his too-small-for-his-(toxic-)hands phone kept him sane when sitting by Sam's bedside did the opposite. Argent asked questions, but never anything about his brother or anyone else in his life; Dean responded as best as he could and even asked a few questions of his own. He'd never been to Beacon Hills, he'd never known _why_ they needed to stay away. There had been rumours. When a drunk hunter mentioned something about the Argents setting up shop in that area, Dean shrugged and decided that whole county would be off-limits for a long, long time. He had questions and even if he didn't get all the answers he wanted, he was still going to ask what he could when he could. 

When the Mark became too much, too strong, Dean warned Argent: _I don't know where I'll end up. I don't want to bring my trouble to your door. So if you see me, get away._

Argent's response was brief, but Dean took a small measure of heart from it. _10-4. Stay strong, soldier._

He made sure to program the numbers Argent used into Sam's phones and computers. They'd never met, but through the brief exchanges, Dean had a sense of the guy. He seemed decent. He seemed honourable. As Dean's outlook on the preternatural changed, he hoped Argent's view did, too, but he also hoped that if he had to leave Sam alone, he'd be able to reach out to Argent if (and when) the shit started hitting the fan. 

When the Men of Letters descended on them all, Dean hoped Argent had been able to steer clear of the devastation Ketch and Bitch Bevell and all their cronies brought down on them. He hoped the warnings about Beacon Hills had reached the British. 

Or maybe he hoped they tried to take it and got eaten for their troubles---but he'd never admit that to anyone. 

He knew Sam warned Argent about Michael. In the aftermath, he'd been thankful for that. He missed the connection to the sort of hunter pen-pal he'd developed, an outside-and-adjacent voice separate from whatever madness was swirling around them, but Sam seemed to do a good enough job keeping him in the loop and managing what information Argent sent back in return. 

It was probably for the best. 

The request for a face-to-face meeting, sent to him and not to Sam, was a bit of a surprise. 

_Need to meet you both. Neutral ground between BH and LK. You pick the town, I'll pick the place._

Dean fired back a text, telling Argent that they'd be in Loma, Colorado in twenty-four hours.

#####

"Do you even know what he looks like?" Sam asked. 

Shrugging, Dean said, "Sort of, yeah. When I went looking for someone to fill in on the Leviathan deal, I looked up his info on his corporate website." 

Sam nodded and looked around the bar over his bottle of beer. "You think... I mean, how bad could it be?" 

"Really?" Dean asked. 

Sam gave him a half-smile and a shrug. "Look, we could do with some easy work for once. I just got you back." 

"Months ago." 

"You know what I mean." 

Dean ducked his head after a brief nod. "Yeah. I know," he mumbled. He caught and tracked movement in the back of the bar, beyond the half-wall and crowded bar stools. "Think we've got company."

"Argent?" 

Dean continued tracking the too-sober, too-calm figure until it emerged from the shadows. Chris Argent, much less polished than he appeared on his business' website but much more authentic, moved towards them on a steady, even stride. 

"Dean. Sam." 

"That's us," Dean said. "Pull up some booth. Stay a while. You want a beer?" 

"Sure," Chris agreed. 

Sam flagged down their server and gestured for three more bottles of beer. After flashing him a too-glossy smile, she disappeared from their attention; Dean settled into his seat as he watched Chris sit next to Sam and unzip his jacket. 

"You guys been keeping busy?" Chris asked. 

"We... just finished... the other Michael crap," Dean said. As soon as he realised he was rubbing his hand against his sternum, he stopped and forced himself to put both of his hands around the bottom of his bottle of beer, fingers curled around it and thumbs against the smooth, straight surface. "We've been... trying to lay low." 

The corner of Chris' mouth turned up into a small smirk. "You guys are trouble magnets. Always in the middle of it, from what I hear." 

Sam laughed---not a happy sound, but not completely without good humour, either---and shook his head. 

"Something like that," Dean agreed. "But, in our defense, _some_ of it wasn't our fault." 

"No, definitely not," Chris said, nodding. "You good? Now, I mean." 

"Getting there," Dean replied. He snorted and flashed Chris a grin. "Definitely a fan of being back in control of my body." 

Chris leaned forward. "What did you do first?" 

"Hugged my family, passed out, showered for forever, had some high quality solo time, and went for a drive in my baby," Dean replied. "Oh, and the burgers. Ate a lot of those." 

"Yes, because your cholesterol was finally in danger of being within the acceptable ranges," Sam muttered with a roll of his eyes. 

Their server came to their table and set down three bottles of beer, opened and coated in condensation, as Chris chuckled. 

"Sounds about right," he said. "So, are you guys working right now, or… just staying out of everything supernatural?" 

Dean exchanged a look with his brother. On one hand, the Argents didn't seem to get into the same sort of trouble as they did; on the other hand, they were supposed to be laying low and watching out for the remaining people who came through the rift, as they tried to find their places in the new-to-them world. 

On the other-other hand, Dean was _bored_. 

When Sam nodded, Dean turned to Chris and smiled. 

"Tell us what you've got," he said. 

"How do you feel about protecting werewolves and helping to get them to safety?" Chris asked. 

Sam's eyes widened. Dean was already looking in his direction when Sam made eye contact, eyebrows lifted high into his forehead. Without breaking his gaze, Dean said, "Well, this is a story we've gotta hear, Argent." 

Chris sighed. After a sip from his bottle of beer, he said, "Yeah. We're gonna need a few more of these, too, if I'm giving you the long version." 

"With a job offer like that, I think we're going to need the long version," Sam said as he raised his hand and snagged their server's attention again.

###

Once Chris finished telling them everything that had been happening in and around Beacon Hills, Dean leaned back in his seat and sighed. He'd given them a lot of information to ponder. Some of Chris' experiences were familiar, in that they'd experienced similar things, especially through Garth and Bess and their pack, but they'd also heard things from Claire, when she'd been taken and turned. When they'd gotten together, after chasing the Men of Letters away, Claire had said she'd wondered if it had been them who had killed the werewolf's pack, subsequently driving him insane. Sam had agreed with her; Dean hadn't been sure. He'd always had more trouble than Sam did in finding the shades of grey on an issue. 

But helping werewolves escape hunters and get to someone who could protect them---and train them---was a shade of grey Dean didn't know if they should even peek at with wary eyes. 

"So… wow. You've really turned around on the whole werewolf thing," Sam said. 

Chris smiled and shrugged. "Beacon Hills is… an eye-opening place." 

"But… they… kill people. Eat their hearts," Dean said. 

With a shake of his head, Chris said, "Not these guys. Their pack alpha, Scott, he's a true alpha. He never killed anyone to earn his power. His beta still has yellow eyes. They're not all perfect, they've made some mistakes, and some… well, there are a couple I think cause more trouble than peace, but right now, there's a bigger picture and they're all on board and in line. Different species. Different… races. Even humans. One pack. 

"They protect people. They do their best. And right now, Monroe is gone, but she's recruiting and she's hunting---she's hunting kids who were attacked and turned or born into a certain family. It's not right." 

Sam nodded. Dean wasn't sure, yet, but Sam was nodding. He mentally cursed; he should have known Sam would be nodding. 

"Dad always told us never to go to Beacon Hills," Dean muttered before rubbing his hands over his face. 

Chris snorted. "Yeah, we… for a while, a lot of hunters had a truce with Talia. My sister broke it---and our code. She and my dad, I think. After the fire that killed most of their pack… it wasn't safe for hunters in those parts for a while. We only came back because there were more killings after a long respite." 

"So. Apart from that. The fear monster… it got most of the town on Monroe's side, so killing it meant most people stopped being so afraid, but she's still hunting?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah," Chris replied. "I've even heard rumours that she's rounding up seasoned hunters." 

"Anyone the Brit dicks managed to hire would be on board with her plan," Sam reasoned. 

Dean groaned. A resurgence of the beliefs of the Men of Letters was not going to do anyone any favours, human or creature. 

"Or anyone left behind," Chris added. 

"There wouldn't be… would there?" Sam asked. "I mean, we were pretty explicit. And there's been so much… Lucifer, and the rifts, and Michael---" 

"Maybe they were laying low, hoping all that takes us out," Dean interrupted. "Why bother trying to kill us when those two asswipes could do it for them?" 

Sam snorted. "Good point." He turned back to Chris. "What would be involved?" 

"Sometimes, it's just picking them up and driving them to the next meeting point," Chris replied. He shrugged and smiled. "We've had a few easy rescues. But, a lot of the time, it's hunting, tracking, and getting there in the nick of time---with a little bit of fighting on the side."

"I wouldn't feel comfortable using our bunker," Sam said. "It's safe, but we have the others there sometimes. A couple are free to come and go. I wouldn't trust them with the shifters' safety---not all of them." 

Dean nodded. "Plus, like you said, we're trouble magnets. I don't want to dump our baggage on some poor kid's head." 

Chris' smile stretched to a grin. He knew they were agreeing. Hell, Dean knew they were agreeing as soon as Sam nodded, but he hadn't been ready to give in and give up so quickly. 

"On future jobs, I can send a wolf or coyote your way, to help with tracking," Chris said, "if you'd be comfortable with that." 

"Might help earn the kids' trust," Dean said in response. 

Sam leaned forward, spreading his hands over the grungy tabletop. "This might put targets on our backs, Dean," he said. "Are you sure?" 

"On top of the targets already on our backs?" Dean asked. "Tell what's-her-name to get in line." 

Sam's next question was directed at Chris. "And are you sure we're a good fit for the job? I mean, we do tend to get into trouble with Heaven and Hell more than a hunter should." 

"You're still alive," Chris said. 

"A lot of people aren't," Sam muttered before picking up his beer---his fourth of the evening. "How do you… how can you trust us with these kids?" 

Dean watched as Chris looked from Sam to Dean and back to Sam. His gaze was heavy, like he was studying them, and Dean felt the weight of his words before he said anything. Before he knew what he was doing, he was rubbing his sternum with his hand again. The ache there flared from time to time; usually, it happened when he thought about his time as Michael's host, but it also happened when he knew he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. 

But, Chris surprised him. "You've been protectors of people who can't protect themselves for almost as long as you've been hunting," he said. "It's in your blood. It's in everything that makes you who you are. Some hunters will say you're reckless punks who will sacrifice everything save each other, and yeah, there's some truth to that, but how many times have you saved the world?" 

"A couple more than we've broken it," Dean joked. 

"Why did you fight back against the Men of Letters?" Chris asked. 

"Because their way is wrong," Sam replied, without hesitation. "They were killing everyone, not just those who weren't going to stop. Some supernatural beings help. Some just want to live in this world. They don't deserve to be killed." 

"And that's why I want you on our team," Chris said. He smirked. "Or, in our pack, even tangentially." 

Sam snorted. Then, as if he fully considered what Chris' words could have meant, he leaned in towards Chris with wide eyes. "Are you… did you… get bit?" 

After a little laugh, Chris shook his head. "No, there's more to the story, but Scott's… well, we've been through a lot. His pack isn't wolf-exclusive. We're a mixed group. Humans, wolves, coyotes, banshees---" 

"Banshees?" Sam asked. "Aren't they trying to eat brains and---" 

Chris laughed again. "No, not our banshee. She's not… she doesn't kill. She still looks human, still acts human. No red robes or flying or anything," he said. 

"Huh. Neat." 

"Yeah, we're a fun crowd," Chris joked. He sighed and patted his hands down onto the table. "So, you two on board?" 

Dean shared another look with Sam. He already knew Sam was going to agree to help; he knew he would agree because Sam did, he wasn't going to leave his brother after finally being reunited with him. When Sam nodded, he nodded, too. 

"Yeah, we're on board," Dean replied. "What do we need to do first?" 

Chris pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen. A moment later, he sent a text. 

"Now, we wait," Chris said. "Scott's nearby. He wants to meet with you first." 

"Another round?" Dean suggested. 

To respond, Chris looked around the bar room and raised his hand when he made eye contact with their server. He turned back to Sam and Dean and grinned. "Might as well, while we're here," he said.

###

Dean didn't expect a kid to come up to their table, but when Chris stood and greeted him warmly, without reservation, he decided to roll with it. 

"Scott, I'd like you to meet a couple colleagues of mine," Chris said. "This is Sam and Dean Winchester. Guys, this is Scott McCall." 

"So, you're the pack alpha of Beacon Hills," Sam said.

"Little young, aren't you? This a puppy pack you're running?" Dean added, smirking. 

Unfazed by his comments, Scott smiled back at him. "In some ways, yes," he replied. "But, we've all had to grow up fast. Do you mind if I join you?" 

"No, not at all," Sam replied. 

"This isn't an audition, I swear," Scott said as he settled in next to Dean on the booth's bench seat. "I have faith in Argent's judgement. But, if you're going to be helping us, I just…" 

"We get it," Sam said. "We want to know we're working with the good guys, too. A bit of trust, right?" 

Scott nodded. "Right." 

No one said anything for a few minutes. Dean watched Scott look from him to Sam to Chris, as if he were studying them or looking for clues. It looked like he was comparing the visual of them to the one hunter he knew and trusted. Instead of drinking his beer, Dean used the lull to study Scott in return. He was a kid. Underneath his age, though, there was a hardness in his posture that spoke of hard decisions and harder experiences. His pulse was steady. Any anger or fear he felt was minimal, then---or at least tucked deep down under a veneer of calm. 

Dean remembered the way Michael could look through beings---both mundane and preternatural---and he wondered what he'd see in Scott if he still had that power. 

"So. Any questions you want to have answered?" Sam asked. 

After a long blink, Dean glanced at his brother. Sam smiled and shrugged at him. 

"Is there anything you want to tell me? Either of you?" Scott asked. "I mean, I know you guys are pretty legendary hunters, and I heard some of the stories about you, but is there anything else I should know?" 

"You believe the stories?" Dean asked in reply. 

Scott's smile was small, but it seemed sincere. "To tell you the truth, a lot of it sounded impossible. But, we've dealt with a lot that sounds impossible, too, so… if you say it's all true, I'll believe what I heard." 

Dean leaned his arms onto the table as he turned his head towards Scott. "Really?" he asked. "You believe we met God? Got possessed by his douchenozzle sons? That we've been to Hell and Purgatory and lived to tell the tale?" 

Scott blinked, but he didn't look like he was going to laugh them out of the bar. Instead, he asked, "What was God like?" 

"A bacon-eating, shower-singing deadbeat dad who had no problem invading my privacy," Dean replied.

After a nudge to Dean's shoulder, Sam snorted. Then, he said, "Very human… and very not human, all in one package." 

"I can see which one of you is more diplomatic," Scott said, smiling broadly. "Luckily Malia's busy or else Sam would have his hands full." 

Chris chuckled. 

"I like her already," Dean replied. He picked up his bottle of beer. After swallowing a swig of his drink, he said, "How many runs are you expecting us to go on? I mean, other shit happens." 

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I absolutely understand that. Right now, we're on a case by case basis. Some pack alphas call us to move them, that takes more people and more planning. But, it's the people on their own, or the ones who managed to escape a slaughter… they're the ones that need the most help. They've lost their support. They're completely alone." 

"How do you find them? Or how do they find you?" 

"We're working on that," Scott answered. "Right now, it's a bit of planning and a bit of luck." 

"Have you tried a witch?" Sam asked. "Someone who can find them with a spell?" 

Scott's eyes widened for a moment, before he put his palms down on the table and leaned in a bit more. "Can we do that? Do you know someone who can do that?" he asked. "How reliable is that sort of magic?" 

"Easier if we have a name to work with," Dean said, remembering the way Bobby would divine an enemy's location. "A witch would probably have luck with a vaguer spell." 

When Scott looked at Chris, Chris raised his hands. "This isn't my area. I know myths and lore, but spells were never my thing." 

Sam nodded. "We've had a bit of luck with it. So, we can try it with a name, first, if there's ever someone you can't find," he suggested. "And if you decide it's worth the risk, we know a witch who _might_ be able to help us try different magic." 

"If we give her something in return," Dean grumbled. 

Chris chuckled. "Isn't that usually how it works?" 

"With her? Always," Dean agreed. 

"But, she's come through for us in the past," Sam said. "And if Monroe's killing everyone… well, she'd be a target, too. We can try to convince her, if it comes to that." 

"Helping us might make both of you one of her targets," Scott said. 

"You think we haven't been targets before?" Sam asked. 

"You think we're normal hunters?" Dean asked, almost as soon as Sam started talking. 

In the past, they both felt shame about some of their history and the perception of their experiences. Dean was mostly past feeling that shame; he did what he did to save Sam or others, and he wasn't going to apologise for that. Talking with Sam about some of their past, especially in the last couple of years, he knew that Sam was working on his shame and remorse, too. 

Proving what he knew to be true, Sam shared a smile with him. Then, Sam turned his attention back to Scott. "We've run into people before who think we're not that human," he said. "Something about us dying a few times. Makes people suspicious." 

"Understandable," Scott said. "So, do you guys have plans for the next couple of days or are you free to go on a little road trip?" 

Dean frowned. "Just like that, we're in?" 

Scott grinned. "Well, Argent already said you can be trusted. I trust him. I just wanted to meet you, hear your heartbeats, and get a feel for how working with you might be." 

"And you have a job for us now," Sam said, after Dean leaned back in his seat and chuckled. 

Nodding, Scott said, "Yeah. A few in Oregon. Outside the Hart Mountain Refuge. Their pack split up, the ones Mason and Corey talked to managed to get to Valley Falls. They're holed up there in an abandoned house and looking for a way out, as far as I know." 

"We're meeting---" 

"Yeah, he's on his way from Beacon Hills," Scott said, interrupting Chris. "He told me he'd meet us on our side before we enter town limits." 

Chris nodded. At almost the same time, he and Dean reached for their wallets to put down cash to cover everything they consumed while sitting at the table. 

"Do we need to head out now or can we leave in the morning?" Sam asked. 

"Let's start fresh. Head out at zero-four-hundred," Chris suggested. 

Sam laughed and nudged Dean's shoulder. "Don't know how fresh we'll be, but sure," he agreed. 

"I hear ya," Scott agreed, sliding out of the booth first. "Since this started, my clock's all off. Didn't even realise the full moon was last week until I saw it in the sky." 

"You've been pretty busy?" Sam asked. 

"Between pack business and trying to protect people from Monroe, yeah," Scott replied. 

Dean wondered what sort of pack business could keep him so busy, but he kept his mouth shut. As much as he wanted to make sure hunters weren't killing innocent kids, he wasn't sure how deep into Scott's mess he wanted to wade. 

Sam seemed to have the same idea. As they filed out of the booth, one by one, Sam only chuckled and nodded, saying something about them experiencing something similar from time to time when their lives got to be pretty intense. 

No one said anything else until they were outside. The motel was a block away, and it looked like Chris and Scott were preparing to head in the opposite direction. 

"Meet you here at four?" Sam asked. 

Chris nodded. "I'll bring the coffee," he replied. 

As he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, Dean nodded and smiled. "You better bring a lot of it if you're making me leave town at four freaking o'clock in the morning," he said as he started to move in the direction of their motel, Sam trailing behind him. "The good stuff, too. None of that cheap gas station swill."

With a laugh, Chris agreed and they went their separate ways.

#####

Dean looked down at the screen of his phone for the second time since they parked outside of Valley Falls. He sighed. Whoever they were waiting on was late. He wasn't big on punctuality, but they'd been waiting for over an hour and he was starting to feel twitchy. 

"Where's your guy?" he asked. 

"Maybe we should drive around and look for him," Sam suggested. 

Scott shook his head. "No, he can handle himself," he said. "If anything, he got here early, decided to scout out the town." 

"Without checking with you? The alpha?" Dean asked. "Got him on a long leash, huh?" 

Chris huffed out a little laugh. When Scott looked at him, he grinned. "What? I find the idea of having Derek on a leash funny," he said. "You would, too, if he wouldn't kick your ass for just imagining it." 

At that, Scott smiled a bit. "True," he conceded. He tilted his head. "I think I hear him." 

It took a few minutes, but eventually a sleek, black car pulled into the rest point. The Camaro's tires crunched over the gravel as it rolled to a stop. 

"Way to keep a low profile, dude," Dean muttered, earning a snort from Sam, who was leaning next to him. 

"Jack and I have a bet going that you're gonna get someone so angry they scratch you," Sam whispered. "We've got fifty dollars on the line. Make me proud and show some restraint, all right?" 

"You're teaching Jack to bet against me?" Dean asked. 

Sam chuckled. "He's still trying to learn how to human better. Blame Charlie. She's the last one he went to with his questions about how to initiate and maintain human camaraderie." 

"I'm gonna blame all of you," Dean muttered. He turned his head and looked at Sam. "Would you really take his fifty bucks?" 

"Kid's gotta learn that lesson, too," Sam reasoned. 

As Dean laughed, the driver of the (third) black car emerged from behind the car door and hugged Scott. He was tall and broad; he looked to be somewhere closer to Dean's and Sam's ages than Scott's age. Dean understood Scott was an alpha, but he didn't think he'd be a pack alpha to someone older than him. He'd assumed the pack was made up of kids. Seeing Scott and the other guy roughhouse in a brotherly way, though, told Dean he needed to re-evaluate his assumptions. 

"Derek?" Sam called out, prompting Dean to realise he had a few more assumptions he needed to reconsider. 

"You know him?" Dean asked. 

Derek stopped playing with Scott, his arm still slung over Scott's shoulders. He looked as surprised as Dean felt. 

"Sam Winchester?" Derek called back from across the lot. "Still a big nerd?" 

"You still a big jerk?" Sam replied. 

Derek grinned and walked over to them. When he extended his hand, Sam took it and pulled him into his body in a half-hug. 

"You look good," Derek said as they separated. "Keeping out of trouble?" 

"Not even a little," Sam replied. He smiled and gestured towards Dean. "This is my brother, Dean. Dean, Derek… Hale, right?" 

"Yep. Nice to meet you, Dean." 

"Likewise," Dean said. "How do you two know each other?" 

Sam's shoulders shook with one of his silent chuckles before he shrugged and said, "Stanford." 

"We met on campus," Derek said. "We… didn't hit it off." 

Sam's laughter turned loud. "That's putting it mildly," he said. "You were such a pain to deal with." 

Dean heard a low "Why doesn't that surprise me?" coming from the direction of Scott and Chris, but all Derek did was grin and shake his head a little. 

"I'd apologise, but I think that goes against the big jerk code," Derek said

"So, you guys already know each other?" Scott asked. 

Dean gestured to Sam and Derek. "They, apparently, go way back." 

"We met… in another life, I guess," Sam explained. "Back before I got back into hunting, and---" 

"And back before I returned to Beacon Hills," Derek added. 

Scott smiled. "Great. So you guys won't have a problem working together?"

Dean watched them exchange a look, smile, and shake their heads. Whatever had happened between them---the detailed story, anyway---was in the past. It wasn't a grudge that Sam felt was worth maintaining, so Dean could let it go and try to get along with him. Derek didn't seem to be holding a grudge, either, which made it even easier. 

"All right. Are we going to do this?" he asked. 

"Yeah, we should---sooner rather than later," Derek agreed. "I drove through the town a couple times. Found hunters at a local watering hole. They didn't seem to recognise me. I wouldn't bet on them staying there all night. No one was around the house, but I didn't stop and look." 

Scott nodded. "I'll drive with Chris, we'll stop a ways back from the house, keep a lookout for anything happening around the house---" 

"And I'll go in the house, get the kids," Derek said. "Sam, Dean, can you keep the cars running? Sam, you can drive mine and I'll show you the way. We keep in touch by phone and meet somewhere on the way out of town on the other side." 

Chris nodded, too. "Sounds like a plan. Let's get moving." 

Derek tossed Sam his keys. "C'mon," he said. "You've been driving this old beast, huh? You think you can handle something… more modern?" 

"Don't diss Baby unless you want to get on our bad sides," Sam said. Dean felt a bloom of warmth inside his chest; for all that Sam teased him about his unhealthy love for their car, it seemed like he, too, had a soft spot for the vehicle that was more their home than any other place on the planet. "She's part of the team. And she's tougher than your tin can, besides." 

Anything Dean could have said would sound too flippant for the feeling he was experiencing. Where the ache usually flared, the warmth blossomed and spread from that point through what felt like his whole body. He knew he and Sam had worked out their issues, but it always touched him in places he wouldn't admit to having when he heard Sam say something that confirmed their bond. 

As Sam crossed in front of him, his trajectory lining up with Derek's as he walked back to his car, Dean reached out and clapped his hand over Sam's shoulder. 

"Be careful," Dean said. "I'll be right behind you." 

Sam grinned at him. "I know. See you in a bit." 

Dean got into the Impala, keeping his eyes trained on Sam until he got into the other car---which was in no way better than Baby, absolutely not, no matter what Wolfy believed---and then he kept his focus on the car itself as he followed it back onto the road. 

He had a lot of questions---about what really happened between Sam and Derek, about Chris aligning himself with a young werewolf and his mismatched pack, and about what he and Sam were really thinking they were going to accomplish by providing support to this group's endeavor---but they were going to have to wait at least a day or two. 

Until then, they had work to do.


End file.
